


As I lay me down to sleep

by mariachiMushroom



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Suicide Attempt, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4632246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariachiMushroom/pseuds/mariachiMushroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Morty are molested by tentacle grass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I lay me down to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This story was edited to patch up some plot holes and improve clarity.

Before he stepped through the green portal after his grandpa, Morty steeled himself for what might await on the other side. He inhaled a lung-full of air, just in case the planet didn't have an oxygen-rich atmosphere, and double-checked the charge of the laser pistol he kept in his pocket.

“Hurry—urrp—up, Morty, we don't have all day,” Rick called from the other side of the portal. Well, at least the air was breathable. Morty hopped through the portal, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger.

He landed in an ankle-deep carpet of lavender alien grass, each stalk thick and nubbly like a sea anemone tentacle. The two of them were on top of a hill, one of many that dipped up and down the gently rolling plain. The lavender stretched as far as the eye could see, until it met the peach-and-mango sky at the horizon. A few teal clouds floated lazily above.

Although the Seussian landscape was peaceful, Morty kept on alert, gun at the ready. The thick grass could hide any number of predators. A tall patch of grass rustled suspiciously below and Morty peppered it with lasers.

“Woah, Morty, put that thing away unless you wanna pull a real Dick Cheney move.”

“Well, sorry for being careful, Rick,” Morty said sarcastically, “I don't wanna get jumped by some kind o-of pointy junk monster like last time. I had to get twenty stitches!” In the field no less, with nothing more than a few swigs of Rick's shitty booze to numb the pain. But Rick ignored Morty's complaints, instead kneeling down and wrapping his hand around a thick grass stalk. He squeezed the stalk, like he was milking a cow, and a thick white substance extruded into his hand. Then he rubbed his finger on the inside of his gums.

“Rick, are you eating plant jizz? I mean, I guess it's okay if you're into that kind of thing, but do-don't bring me along for your sick kicks.”

“Shut up, Morty. You wanna have a good time, you gotta follow my lead.” Rick reached his hand towards Morty's face.

“Get that away from me, Rick, I'm not going to let you smear alien grass jizz on my face.” Morty grabbed Rick's wrists to keep him away.

“You wanna, wanna be a square, Morty? Huh? You wanna be like Jerry? Too afraid of life to live?” Rick used his greater height to make Morty fall backwards into the welcoming grass. Caught off balance, Morty's guard fell and Rick was able to splat a palm-full of milky sap on his face.

“Eurg, yuck, pllth,” Morty spat as some of the bitter liquid came in contact with his tongue. He rubbed his face clean against his bare arm.

“I feel funny, Rick, what's going on?” Morty's anxiety was dissipating, replaced by a fuzzy calm. He fell back against the grass and let Rick apply the sap to his gums. Ordinarily, Rick's aggressive behavior would freak him out, but right now everything was okay. Even the bitter taste in his mouth was okay, or at least not worth arguing about.

A dopey grin bloomed on Rick's face.

“Oohhh, yeah, that's the stuff, Morty.”

“What's 'the stuff'?”

“It's like heroin and pot had a love baby and we're, I dunno, drinking its blood or something.”

“Wait, y-you took me to an alien planet just so you could get high?”

“So _we_ could get high, Morty. You know, this is kind of, kind of a special place for us Ricks. You're lucky I even brought you here.”

“Oh.” Morty could have complained more about being drugged against his will but he didn't feel like making a fuss. Rick snuggled deeper into the hill, the soft tendrils waving around like they were underwater. Morty, too, lay down and let the grass stroke his bare arms. A tangle of strands reached into his scalp, massaging the sensitive skin. Morty moaned. Ordinarily, he'd be embarrassed to make such a sexual-sounding noise next to Rick, but for some reason, he was cool with it. Everything was fine. The world was beautiful.

“You sound like you're—urrp—having a good time.”

“Yeah—” Morty's statement was cut off by a whimper as a tendril of grass stroked the sensitive area behind his ear. He swallowed and began again. “You know, I didn't believe you at first, Rick, but this is really nice. W-we should have more adventures where we just lie around in nice places.”

Rick grunted noncommittally.

Morty couldn't stop his mouth from turning upwards in a wide grin, and he didn't want to. He tilted his head towards Rick. Behind the veil of stroking tendrils, Rick was utterly blissed out, with a wide carefree smile that deepened the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes.

Morty's mind drifted away, just like the cotton-candy clouds floating above in the pastel sky.

“That cloud kind of looks like Snowball, Rick.”

“I think it looks more like an Garflaxian Mermaid's hoo-ha. You know, they have, like eight vaginas. Maybe more.”

“Oh, and that cloud looks like Jessica's bra! Not that I would ever break into her gym locker and steal her underwear or something like that, ha ha.”

Morty's vision went dark, with the odor of booze, ozone, and machine oil. It took a while for him to realize that it was because Rick had thrown his lab coat over his head. Morty tossed the dirty white cloth aside.

“Rick, what are you doing?” Rick had already discarded his shirt and pants and was now taking off his underwear.

“What's the matter, Morty, afraid of a little casual nudity? This old man's balls too swangly for you?” Freed from the confines of his clothes, Rick snuggled his butt back into the caressing grass with a sigh. Morty turned away from his grandpa's wrinkly old body. A little too forcefully, as it turned out, because he started rolling down the hill.

“Welp, gravity got me, so I'm just gonna roll with it,” Morty called out to Rick. “If you need me I'll be at the bottom.” The nubbly grass curled upwards, supporting him so that he fell at a constant speed. His vision cycled between the grass and the sky, lavender and orange and back to lavender again, until he finally came to a stop.

The grass at the bottom of the hill was about waist-high, and swayed without a breeze. From his prone position looking at the sky, it seemed like he was lying on the bottom of the ocean, with forests of kelp waving gently in the current. The long strands caressed Morty's body in unison, stroking up and down in peristaltic motions. A wave of motion would travel down his body: tickling his cheeks and neck, petting his arms, groping his body through his clothes, and then repeat.

The grass was not the only thing that was stirring. Morty gasped as a clump of grass writhed between his legs, rubbing right against his stiffening cock. He rocked upwards, wanting more pressure from the tentacles, but the grass didn't resist and press down in the way he wanted. The soft strokes just weren't enough to get him off. He needed to take matters into his own hands.

Rick was far enough away that he wouldn't notice, right? And anything he did would be hidden by the grass …

Morty unbuckled his pants and reached under the waistband of his boxers. He hummed as he grasped his stiff flesh, working the loose skin up and down in a very practiced motion. Morty fucked the tight ring of his hand, sliding his hips up and down as he clenched his fist. With his other hand, he hiked up his shirt to play with his chest, revealing more skin for the tentacle grass to grope. Morty tweaked his nipple like he usually did while masturbating, but found that he could barely feel the pain. Even scratching red lines down his chest caused no sensation beyond a dull pressure.

Morty was completely absorbed by the rhythm of his strokes, the caresses of the grass, his breathing, the pulse of his heart. When he came, he almost didn't notice it in the middle of how good his whole body felt. His climax traveled all the way through his body in slow waves, starting at his tip and rippling down into his pelvis, then going up his spine until fireworks burst in his vision.

After the sweetest orgasm in his young life, Morty looked down to see just how much he had come. But apart from a few drops of pre-come, his belly was dry. Holy shit, he must have had one of those “dry orgasms” he'd read about online. Morty squeezed his still-hard dick and was rewarded by another intense wave of pleasure.

Morty lost track of how long he had been masturbating. It felt like he had been dreaming his entire life and the only thing that mattered was staying in the blissful present. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. The world was a warm, fuzzy blanket fresh from the dryer. He saw psychedelic static every time he closed his eyes.

He must have been jerking it for hours, because eventually, he could no longer get his right hand to clench hard enough around his dick. Undeterred, Morty rolled onto his belly, with plans to rock against the ground. Something hard poked into his stomach. Morty rose to his knees to see what it was.

He had been lying on a human skull.

Huh. It occurred to Morty that he really should have been more concerned about the fact that someone had died here, but the skull itself was so beautiful. The white bone was riddled with cracks, out of which sprouted tiny yellow flowers in various stages of bloom. A few tufts of teal hair were scattered around the crown of the skull.

Investigate. Yes. He should examine the skeleton for clues as to how the person had died. Or something like that. He should pick up his arm and brush aside the waving grass. Yes. He should do that. At some point, he should really start moving. Any minute now, he would build up the willpower to move.

Morty found himself pitching forward. He landed face-first into the rib cage of the skeleton. Well, that was one way of sticking his nose into things. The body smelled of rot, which mixed nauseously with the scent of the flowers. He turned his head to the side so his nose wouldn't be pressing into the bone and found himself face-to-face with another skull.

Draped around the second skeleton's torso was a yellow cloth. The fabric was thin and almost rotted away, but Morty recognized it as a t-shirt. The same t-shirt he was currently wearing.

He was lying next to his own remains. And that meant that the first skull must have belonged to …

Rick.

Calm gone, Morty screamed. What the hell was going on here?

The alien grass was still stroking against Morty. He batted it away so he could think more clearly. Something wet and ticklish, like a tongue, swiped up his neck. Despite the unknown peril he was in, Morty couldn't help but moan. When he unwrapped the drooling vine curled around his neck, his hands were coated with some kind of clear liquid. He watched in horrified fascination as the skin on his hands started blistering. He could see the tissue damage, but he couldn't feel it at all.

The facts coalesced into a conclusion. This planet was a deathtrap, lulling innocent Ricks and Mortys with its opiate secretions, only to digest them in their drugged state. Morty had to tell Rick. He lurched to his feet and struggled his way back to the top of the hill. The treasonous grass coiled around his legs, begging him to stay.

At the top of the hill, Rick was still lolling indolently, his body half-sunken into the ground, tugging insistently at his flaccid dick.

“Heh, Morty, I didn't know you were such a screamer.”

“Rick, I think this planet is trying to eat us!”

“Of course it is, you don't get something for nothing, Morty,” Rick shrugged. “Do you know how meta—urrp—bolically expensive it is to manufacture opiates? There would be no point if the plants didn't get something in return.”

“Rick, how can you be so-so calm about this?”

“I'm high as balls, Morty.”

“Well, I found a Rick skeleton at the bottom of the hill!” Rick didn't bat an eye at Morty's panic.

“Oh, that must have been Rick B-431. He was the one who told me about this place.”

“We have to get out of here, right now.” Morty grabbed Rick's arm and tugged, but Rick just lay there like dead weight.

“You go. I'll stay. This is a nice place. I feel good. I'm haaapppyyyy,” Rick drawled.

“I'm not leaving here without you!” Morty picked up the portal gun. The green ball lightning in the tube was barely flickering. “Oh no, I must have forgotten to charge it, there's barely enough juice for one person!”

“It's not your fault, Morty, I didn't remind you,” Rick replied dully. “Go on ahead. Save yourself.”

“Are you crazy? I'm not leaving you here, Rick! Y-you know, there was a Morty s-skeleton right next to the Rick one, right?” For a moment, Rick's smile fell. Then he grabbed another tentacle and sucked, swallowing a mouthful of opiate sap.

“Well, if you wanna—urrp—stay with me, Morty, that's fine too.” Rick patted the spot next to him. “You, you're a good kid. The best friend a guy could ask for. Y-you, you and me had a good run.” Morty slapped Rick's face but his head just fell limply to the side.

It was up to Morty to get them both out of this mess. Maybe he could just portal Rick back and wait for him to sober up and get back into his right mind? But who knows how long that would take. The longer Morty stayed here, the more the grass sapped his willpower. Already, his body felt so heavy, like he should just lie down and take a nap forever. If only he had another portal gun …

Wait, maybe there was another gun! If the other Rick was anything like his, he would have left an out for his Morty as well. But to get to it, he would have to go back to the tall grass, where the tentacles secreting digestive juices lie in wait.

Well, if that was what he had to do, so be it. Rick traced Morty with his eyes as the boy washed his skin with the contents of Ricks' flask.

“Hey, hey Morty, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” said Morty, donning Rick's discarded lab coat to protect his arms. “I'm getting the other Rick's portal gun and saving our asses.”

“Wait, Morty,” Rick grabbed Morty's leg just as the boy was tucking his socks over his pant legs. “We-we don't even know if there is a portal gun. If you go back down, you're not gonna make it back up again. Just-just stay here with me. We can watch the clouds. I'll even put my underwear back on. Please.” Morty pulled his foot out of Rick's grasp.

“Sorry, Rick, I've got to do this. You'll thank me for this later.” And Morty marched down the hill.

“You're making a big mistake, Morty!” Rick called out. “You're going to die alone and I'm—” Rick cut off.

The grass rustled in a conspiratorial whisper. Morty pressed forward, through the strands battering his legs. When he found the skeletons, Morty slid the labcoat sleeves over his hands to serve as makeshift gloves and combed through the nearby grass, searching for the color of electric green. The grass reached for his bare face. Although he tried to bat them away, he couldn't avoid the sticky touch of a few long strands running down his cheek. He rubbed off the sap with his labcoat sleeves, but there were just too many tentacles, coiling around his neck, ruffling his scalp.

Morty paused and shivered as a tentacle ran up his spine and curled around his neck. The task at hand seemed so unimportant now. Surely he could enjoy himself for a little bit? Touch himself just a little?

 _No,_ Morty screamed internally. Rick was counting on him. Morty continued searching, picking up one hand and putting it down again, lumbering, heavy. Finally, he spotted a bit of green underneath the lavender tendrils.

Morty dragged himself towards the portal gun. The green ball of energy in the portal gun tube flickered dimly, but it still had a little juice left. But as he closed his fingers around the handle, he felt a corresponding touch around his ankle.

It seems like the tall grass was not going to give him up as easily this time. Another tentacle wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the gun. The grass flailed harder, layering Morty with sticky opiates. Morty's mind was clouding, all sense of urgency leaving.

Morty reached for his ray gun with his free hand. Trembling with exertion, he fired at the tentacle holding his arm. The beam of light pierced the tentacle, splattering his face with acid secretions. Morty shot his foot free as well and then staggered upright.

There was no time to waste. Morty ran towards the top of the hill, shooting the stalks of tentacle grass as they reached for him. The air filled with a sweet burning scent. Each breath of smoke sent his head reeling. He was walking on stilts, his head precipitously high off the ground. When Morty finally reached the top of the hill, Rick was completely wrapped in vines, more mummy than grandpa.

“Rick, I got the other portal gun!” Morty called out. There was no response.

Morty shot one portal gun at the ground right below Rick. The green portal sliced through the grass strands and Rick fell in. Then Morty dialed the other gun to his home dimension and shot the air. The portal flickered, barely present. He could only hope it was enough to get him home.

Morty landed on the garage floor in a grateful collapse. He could have kissed the oil-stained ground. The remaining tentacles on Rick's body shriveled, exuding their fluid internals into a puddle. The adrenaline faded, leaving Morty with nothing but the dregs of opium slumber. The two lay on the floor, limp, wrung out.

“Ohh, uhrg, what—urrp—happened?” said Rick, picking himself off the ground. “How am I still awake?” Morty scrambled to tear off the flaccid grass stalks still draped on his body.

“Rick, don't ever do that again, I almost didn't make it in time, oh god, what if you had died,” Morty sobbed. Rick looked at Morty in shock.

“You saved me. I can't believe it. Y-y-you—you should have left me, I'm no good.”

“I c-couldn't do that, you're my grandpa. You wouldn't have let me die alone on an alien planet.” Rick turned away from Morty, huddling in a miserable hunch.

“Morty,” Rick rasped, “You should have let me die happy. I'm a fuck up, the biggest fuck up in the universe. I fucked up my marriage, I fucked up a universe, and one of these days, I'm gonna fuck you up too. I mean, I just fed you drugs and forced you to watch me try to kill myself! What's gonna happen to you if you keep hanging out with me?” In response, Morty wrapped his arms around Rick's torso. His chest pressed into Rick's jutting spine.

“Rick, you don't get it. D-do you think I could have charged up a hill while high as balls a year ago? I'm already different than I was before, but that's not a bad thing. The old me was pretty lame.” Morty rested his head on Rick's shoulder. “You know, you might be an asshole, but I'm glad you decided to live with us. The universe is such a beautiful place. Even if it is mostly terrible.” Rick turned around, his eyes dripping. He returned Morty's hug, burying his face in the borrowed lab coat.

“Don't leave me, Morty. I-I,” Rick's voice choked, “I don't want to die alone.”

“I'm not gonna leave you, Rick. Just, just let me know if you hurt, okay?”

“Fine, Morty,” Rick rolled his eyes, but his mouth was turned up into a smile.

“Now, Morty, give me my lab coat back, I'm buck naked and hugging my grandson and I don't want to give the audience the wrong idea. I know some people are into the whole intergenerational incest thing, but I am noo—urrp—not one of them.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing a porn, and then it turned into a plot. I looked up the effects of opium and heroin for the purposes of this fic. I was actually ~this close~ to having Morty's "dope dick" be orgasm denial instead of multiple orgasms. Maybe in a parallel universe ...
> 
> Special thanks to the skype peeps. You know who you are.


End file.
